Heights
by AliceHeart247
Summary: A quick one-shot in which a young Christine discovers her fear of heights.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: A nice little one-shot to help me separate myself from Swan Song for a bit and hopefully allow me to really get into my next (as yet unnamed) fanfic. Feel free to review this, I always reply.**

 _Of course_ , she thought, looking up at the catwalk hanging a dizzying number of meters from the stage. _Of course they had to choose me._

Climbing the stairs to the walk was nothing, but looking down the narrow space she was expected to traverse made her stomach simultaneously drop and rise to her throat.

Joseph Buquet chose this of all days to be absent from the theatre, or at least his post, and Monsieur Reyer had been quite insistent that this particular rope needed to be loosed. He did not even bother to explain what it was for. He had merely asked one of the ballet girls to go up. And of course he had chosen her, Christine, who was terrified of heights. He had assured her that it was perfectly safe, or else he would have had someone else go up. This had done little to quell the storm in her stomach.

'Just go to that one.' Meg told her from below.

Christine nodded. She set her shoulders, looking dead ahead and keeping her fingers on the rails that secured both sides. Taking deliberate breaths, she kept her chin up. She felt like she had been up there an eternity already, but she continued, making her cautious way to the desired rope. With shaking fingers, she untied it and carefully lowered whatever was tied at the other end. She did not care to look down to find out at present.

A chorus of thanks rang up from below, signalling she was done. She was just about to turn and head back to the stage when Meg cheered something up at her.

Looking down to the dancer proved to be a bad idea. Immediately her hands clamped on the rail as her knees shook frightfully. She could not move, and could barely even think. Her breathing came in quick gasps as fear overtook her. She felt tears well up as she dove deeper and deeper into panic. What if she never came back down again? What if she fell? Certainly this height would kill her, she thought.

Suddenly, a soft warm shadow enveloped her back. She felt a breath come to her ear as gentle black gloved hands came to rest feather-light upon her own.

'Breathe,' the darkness instructed.

She did as she was told, remembering how her Angel of Music had taught her. It was odd that this voice sounded so similar.

'Now, let go of the rail,' it continued, slightly encouragingly.

She shook her head, barely gasping out, 'I can't.'

'Yes, you can. Just let go. I will not let you fall or trip.' It assured, softly purring at her ear.

Slowly, tentatively, she allowed her fingers to relax under his. She felt herself sway slightly and took his hands, though not nearly as tightly as she had the rail.

'There now, that was not so bad. I am right here, you will not fall.' It told her again, soothing her fears before she could even voice them.

Christine felt strangely reassured to have the great shadow looming behind her like an impenetrable wall. It obviously took smaller steps for her benefit as they calmly and cautiously made their way off the narrow catwalk. Though she kept a firm hold on its hands, she noticed that they only touched her lightly. It was as if whoever was behind her feared breaking her like she were made of glass. She found odd comfort in their gentle touch.

At last, they made it to the stairs. Christine let go to grab the rail of the spiralling steps that lead to solid ground.

'Thank you, Monsieur, I-' She turned round to find the catwalk empty. It was then that she fully realised that the mysterious figure who had helped her was most likely the famed and feared Opera Ghost. Cocking her head at this thought, she made her way back down to the stage and continued to rehearse with the others.

If the Phantom was so terrible, then why did he help her?

 **A/N: Hope you liked this little piece. I get a kick out of writing little stories like this, so be prepared for more to potentially pop up. If I get enough reviews, I might be tempted to write this in Erik's perspective, but first let me know if you liked it.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Wow, you guys liked this! Thank you so much for all of your wonderful reviews, to Lovecupcake, Baruga, and Child of Music and Dreams for favoriting/following this story, and all for simply reading. Here it is, but more from Erik's point of view!**

 _I'm going to kill him!_ He fumed. How dare Reyer pick Christine to do this?! She was clearly terrified!

Slinking through the shadows of his beloved Opera, the ghost of a man watched with reddening fury as his Christine blanched at the proposition. She had shaken her head fervently at first, but Monsieur Reyer's assurance that it was safe forced her to comply. Her eyes were wide with fear as she walked over to the stairs deep within the wings.

Erik watched her carefully from the opposite side of the stage as she kept her eyes determinedly on her feet. That would do her no good when she got to the catwalk, however. He nearly jumped from his skin when she looked across the walk, but he knew she could not see him. Besides being too well concealed in his shadows, she was not looking for him. She was staring fixedly at the desired rope.

If he had been thinking properly, he would have simply loosened the rope for them and Christine would not have been put through this much trouble, but he had been blinded by fury over the musical director's impudence.

Still wallowing in loathing for the man, Erik barely noticed as she bravely made her way along the narrow boards high above the stage. She suddenly looked so small and fragile as her eyes were wide with fear. Her dainty little fingertips brushed the rails for assurance and he suddenly felt the pull to touch them. He wondered if he ran his own gloved hands along the wood if he would be granted a bit of her essence. He doubted it.

He watched, calmly huddled in the gloom as she carefully lowered the rope down. He nearly sighed when he saw the flicker of a smile on her rosy lips when everyone below thanked her. It was actually going well. He was about to wonder if she had lost her fear when little Meg caught her attention.

 _Damn!_ He thought as he watched his Christine fill again with terror and clutch the rail hard. Her normally soft knuckles turned white as her legs began to shake. She could not move and she was hyperventilating. If she passed out now, she may fall.

Rushing to her side noiselessly, he paused. She was so small and meek before him. His breath caught as he realised he had never been this close to her before. He had only ever stood near her when a wall or glass separated them, but now…now she was within his grasp. He could smell her soft rose scent and practically feel how her legs shook. He knew he had to do something.

Taking a bracing breath, he leaned over her, careful not to touch her back or press himself too closely to her. He was afraid he would not be able to let her go if he did. Still, he could not help himself for sliding his hands down to cover hers.

She tensed beneath him as he lowered his face down to her shoulder.

'Breathe,' he instructed, throwing in just enough of his angel voice to make her focus. She always responded so well to that tone. This time was no different as she began to take deep, full breaths.

He had to close his eyes to the sound. She was just so lovely.

'Now, let go of the rail.' He knew he was pushing a bit hard when she shook her head.

'I can't.' She croaked out with a sob.

His heart nearly broke hearing her so distressed. He would certainly get back at Reyer for this one. Perhaps he would steal some of the next performance's music. Yes, that would work, especially if it were the night before. Nothing like giving the foolish man's heart a skip. Shaking himself out of his thoughts of revenge, he focused on his angel.

'Yes, you can. Just let go. I will not let you fall or trip.' He assured her. No, he would never allow for his Christine to be hurt. He would watch over her and protect her with his life if need be.

He felt her fingers relax under his. He let her straighten up a bit, moving his hands away and pondering if now she could get back on her own. He was wonderfully wrong.

She wobbled slightly as her legs were still weak from fright. Instinctively she grabbed something stable. Erik felt his heartbeat soar as she held his hands. Her warmth quickly spread through the black leather of the gloves and touched his palms. He wondered what he had ever done to deserve such heaven.

Regaining his composure, he spoke again, hoping to calm her. 'There now, that was not so bad. I am right here, you will not fall.' He felt her relax a bit at his words, though she was still terribly afraid.

He walked with her, finding his steps much shorter to accommodate her smaller stature. He did not mind in the slightest. He was simply living in the clasp she had on his hands and the feeling of her tiny frame mere inches of his looming figure. She truly was an angel.

He nearly cursed as they finally made it back to the stairs. He knew it had to end eventually, but he had wanted it to go on just a bit longer. She let go of his hands, letting them become cold and hollow without her touch.

Quickly checking her footing was secure, he disappeared, nearly weeping at having to part from her. He slipped back into his protective shadows as he heard her gentle thanks. He held his breath at her kindness.

He watched her return to the stage, though her attentions kept flicking back to the catwalk high above. He wondered if perhaps she was trying to catch a glimpse of her saviour. He let her look, still gazing down at her, but knowing she would never see him.

Yes, he would protect her always, but she could never see him. She could never meet the Phantom who helped her.

 **A/N: There we go! I hope this lived up to everyone's expectations. I tried to make them about the same length, but I tend to get carried away when writing for Erik. His mind is just so complex! Thank you Child of Music and Dreams for partially inspiring the little bit of fury Erik felt towards Reyer.**


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